1 comments/ 20373 views/ 2 favorites Oligarchs By: Eli is Coming [[Incest is the over-arching theme for this (rather long) story but it also contains mature, lesbian, anal, and BDSM bits as well.]] I DON'T NEED A QUEEN Much happens underneath the Noon sun. Insects hatch, reproduce, and die under one day's sunshine. They exist their whole lives not knowing a superior order surrounds them. Under this same sun, construction workers install electrical wires and pour cement; dock workers race their loaded lift trucks across the ports; truck drivers and train engineers course through America's transportation veins. It is an uncomplicated but complex dance and all around the workers there too is an order they are virtually oblivious to. They blindly follow orders like a hive of bees and are just as intelligent; at least this is how Yevgeny Fillmore and everyone else he knew—that is to say who mattered—saw it. But under that sun at that moment in an Asian garden, another inferior but complex order was occupying his thoughts. "Check..." he said with a slight smile and raised brow on his pudgy face after he released his white knight. He knew it would not accomplish checkmate by itself but he had a strategy. "I see your knight and I raise you a castle," spoke his partner with a slight British accent as he took the dangerous knight away. "You knew my castle would take your knight. When you're trying to sacrifice or trick someone into moving how you'd like them, try to make it less obvious. How can you inherit your father's investments and enterprises if your feints are obvious?" the other man sternly professed as he sipped his tea. The young Yevgeny searched the board for the other man's plan of attack. Surely he would not say all that without a sound strategy in play already. A long minute passed and though he seemed to concentrate on the board the entire time, his body became bored and forced his mind to concentrate instead on the perpetual dipping of the bamboo in the many water fountains of the garden. They created a hypnotic beat almost like music; it became louder and louder so it was all he could feel until he felt sharp pain in his cheek and his ears heard a resonating SMACK in the open air garden. "You're daydreaming again Yevgeny!" shouted the man as he pointed his finger at him. "I'm sorry uncle," he said morosely. He quickly moved his rook, not the move he had planned, but a way to buy time until he figured out his uncle's trick. It turned out he had no time to do this because the match was over ten moves later. "You didn't follow through on your trick, Yevgeny. I was sure it would be good." The boy raised his eyebrows and dropped his jaw in surprise. "But...you saw what I was doing...you knew it was coming..." he pleaded with his uncle. "NO! Knowing something is coming is completely hom-less compared to knowing what IS coming. I had no ideer what you'd do but I made it seem like I did so you'd strike blindly at me." Yevgeny hung his head in shame. "But besides..." his uncle continued "...you lost your queen almost right away. Any good game needs one." "I don't need a queen..." the twelve year old child talked back. The uncle glared at the insolent boy and twitched his left hand as if he were to strike him again. Instead he raised himself from his cross legged posture at the low table, buttoned his Italian silk jacket, straightened his neck tie, and smoothed his pants until they covered the laces of his radiant black leather shoes. "Every king needs a queen. But unlike chess, she may or may not be better because she still has more to prove even in this day and age. Never say or think such nonsense again and your father won't hear we ever had this conversation." With that he walked to the ivy covered island of brick that housed the stairs but did not make eye contact with the woman in a nurse's uniform who glared angrily at him as she stood watch. Yevgeny lifted his hefty boyish body from ground, smoothed his silk kimono and walked the winding cobblestone path amidst countless foreign plants he could name from touch. He came to the ten foot chain linked fence surrounding the garden and looked out upon the great waves of skyscrapers; his garden being atop one of the tallest ones, the people living and working beneath him looked like indistinguishable gray blobs moving amongst the checkered city blocks. One way or another it would all belong to the new king, queen or no. There are some people on Earth who possess a genuine modesty so strong that they repel every sincere good word about them. There are others, most everyone else, who appreciate a good compliment and only take glowing ones from spouses or their parents. The remainder are the immodest. They strut about their entire lives absolutely confident in their abilities and reject all good words as useless confirmations of what they already know. They are often known as "pricks." Yevgeny Fillmore was not among the latter as he stood in his private garden atop Fillmore Shipping's headquarters building... "Rickman you imbecile! Have you found my cufflinks yet?!" ...but he was nine years later. A taller, leaner Yevgeny admired himself in his bedroom mirror. His regular tailor, whom he had not gotten around to learning the name of, truly outdid himself once again when he created the tux now on Yevgeny's back. He pressed his left palm to his flat stomach and the back of his right hand just above his butt as he raised his head and eyes slightly as if he were staring above a crowd. At six feet one inch this could be accomplished without further effort but someone as important as himself had to play the part and appear opulent in every regard. The faint smile left his lips as he turned his head behind and shouted. "Have you found my father's cufflinks yet, Rickman?!" Behind him hurried a hunched thinned silver haired man rifling through dresser drawers, searching closets, and every jewelry case. "I'm sorry Master. I have not found anything yet but I'll keep looking!" he replied with short breath. He could easily have a long night ahead of him. Yevgeny's spacious bedroom was covered every inch in what his sisters called "Eastern Kitsch." Buddhist, Confucianist, Hindu, and Zoroastrian symbols covered every available inch on his wall and provided innumerable places to hide and forget his most treasured possessions. One could not step into his room without fear of stepping on a meditating Buddha and impaling one's face on one of his five foot Shiva's arms. He could spread his treasures throughout the house and he easily afford to remodel his home to match them, he believed for one that it was better this way to provide him a quiet contrast to the newness of American antiques throughout his mansion and second because if every head of the household changed the family home how they pleased, it would have still been adorned with murals and color schemes of John, Paul, George, and Ringo for whom his father adored. Yevgeny vainly examined the tux once again. A neutral observer would have no trouble calling him handsome. He radiated a confidence based partially upon his physical, social, and economic stature—the rest was about looking good. His straight black hair was oiled slightly and parted on the left with a few strategic strands out of place. He brought his forefinger to his nose and gently pushed the tip down in irritation. The Chen family integrated into the corporate aristocrats a hundred years ago and later acquired monopoly rights from China for the manufacturing of cheap plastic toys sent to the west. One married into an American fuel oligarch in the hopes of cheaper oil; this union produced Yevgeny's grandfather on his late mother's side and, because his father had no racially mixed blood himself, left him one eighth Chinese and that nose which he could never bend down. It was nowhere near a pug nose but as far as he was concerned, it was. "That's it Rickman...I'll go with some others instead," he said as he walked to a drawer, pulled a matching pair out from their silk sheath, and walked out. "Don't worry Master, I'll find them!" said the tired older man as he rummaged into more drawers. He compulsively straightened and even refolded the clothes if need be once he finished a drawer. Yevgeny walked out the carved double doors out his bedroom and clacked his shoes against the cold stone floor. As he walked, he attempted to place the cufflinks but he instead felt some already in place. He stole a glance during his quick walk and realized they were his father's platinum freight liner cufflinks; they were on his person that entire time. Most would simply laugh this off but Yevgeny growled at his own stupidity. "How can you run your father's business if you can't remember or notice you have cufflinks on!" he yelled at himself in his head. Light jazz filled echoed down the stone hallways as Yevgeny left the long corridor at last and entered a great marble balcony overlooking an even greater chamber with opulence enough to wrest beyond the dreams of the common man. If no statue was not gold plated, it was gold leaf. If no chandelier did not have real crystal, it did not exist at all. Big enough for four hundred persons, it contained, under the dining tables, the largest rug in the state. It alone took the mobilization of Afghanistan's peasant rug makers for three solid months of work so the wealthiest people within two continents could spill food on it. Just then a servant approached him from behind. "Hello Master Yevgeny. I'd like to wish you a happy 21st birthday," said a throaty yet feminine voice. "Thank you Ms. Reynolds," he replied without turning his head away from the chatting people in elegant dress decorating his ball room. The servant came to his side and turned her head slightly to his ear. "Will you need me to fluff your pillows tonight, master?" she asked as her mouth neared his earlobe and breathed her hot and moist air onto him. He turned and looked down and into her gray eyes and aging face. Henrietta "Henri" Reynolds was his wet nurse when she was his current age--after his birth mother died. Since then she had assumed all the caring and loving roles a mother has with her son plus a few others; their bond was unmistakable. She still wore a nurse's uniform (though she was not registered) in part, he assumed, to arouse him. He knew she loved him dearly as her son and a lover but he did not feel that way in any regard. She was convenient. His sexual restrictions maintained by his stepmother were designed to keep him from siring an illegitimate child outside the oligarchies who may claim his or her "birthright" some day. She found her own ways into her young masters bed but, much to her sadness, she could never stay the night for fear of being caught. Despite his potentially despotic hold on the house, family issues resided almost entirely with his stepmother. "Yes. An hour after I leave the ball..." he said without enthusiasm. Henri beamed and giggled far more girlishly than a woman of 45 should and swayed her hips as she walked away. Yevgeny did not bother to look and instead kept his gaze upon the dancers anxiously awaiting to give him false pleasantries and wishes. He hated almost every one of them and nearly all were family either by marriage or by blood. "Are you ready Yevgeny?" asked a soft British voice from behind. He closed his eyes and kept his back to the voice's body—his stepmother Maria. "Yevgeny?" she continued. "Pipe up bro!" shouted one of his half sisters. When he did not respond, Maria walked closer without his acknowledgment. "You can't act like a spoiled child any longer young man," she scolded in the most polite way possible. Yevgeny listened for nearly a minute to the bouncing rhythm of the jazz ensemble entertaining the hundreds of shmoozing guests below. "I wasn't a child four years and eight months ago, mother. Controlling half the world's international transportation and fending off your brother made me quite the man in a few months. By the way, how is my uncle?" he asked rhetorically. Maria simply looked into her bodice. "You very well know he has been missing for almost four years," she replied meekly. Though Maria was the matriarch of the family after his elderly father passed away, her relative youth (40) and inexperience simply left her to be the guardian of morals and not finances. When her brother mysteriously disappeared after attempting a hostile take over, she could not accuse Yevgeny in the slightest. Her youngest, Teddy, was just nine but it was clear already by his love of musical theater, costumes, and colorful dress that he would not spread the Fillmore genes and thus be suitable to replace Yevgeny for revenge. Her two daughters, fifteen and twelve, would likely be neutralized by being married off to some distant relative in Europe or Asia just as she had to his father. Her side of the family was odd in that it had no race mixing so his half siblings were standard European white American mutts. "I'll send word to the entertainment that we'll be down soon. Donna!" A twenty-ish blonde maid appeared from nowhere. "Be a dear and go to the back of the stage to subtly tell the act to play the birthday song at exactly twenty on the big clock? Thanks dear, run along..." she added with a superior smile. Flush with another little victory over his stepmother, he double checked the appearance of his family. Yevgeny was certain Maria had already spent half an hour inspecting them personally but one of the many things his father taught him was that one should never take anyone's word for anything when you could simply check it for yourself. Keeping this philosophy, and many others, made him and later Yevgeny spend long hours in their offices often handling mundane paper pushing. The girls were dressed young enough but the older one displayed bits of her nearly developed bosom to perhaps attract an older wealthy man or better an oligarch her own age with a flair for the family business. Teddy as mentioned earlier wore garish and vibrant colors and accessories fit for two kinds of queens. Maria wore a simple black dress, two inch heels, and a diamond at her breast the size of a golf ball—a present from the Freedmen oligarchs of South Africa and therefore not a show of fortune; it was her home after all so any excessive display of value on herself would imply a bad opinion of the home itself. At precisely twenty the big clock sounded (though archaically eight times) and the ensemble seamlessly switched to the birthday song. A few years ago Yevgeny paid for a bill in Congress to yet again extend the copyrights and trademarks from the early twentieth century and the birthday song was among them. His cousin Ulysses Hill, who inherited song, called it the most profitable Christmas present he ever received. Maria interrupted his thought as she hooked her arm into his. "Here we go...act like you're enjoying yourself and we'll all get through this OK." "Of course I'm enjoying myself, mother!" he replied with a convincing smile, warm eyes, and enthusiastic tone. Maria jerked her head and looked up at his smiling face with a disbelieving one. "Mother? Whatever is the matter? Is something wrong?" She glared at him as they walked until they approached the stairs descending from the balcony; once she was in sight, she too smiled pleasantly though not as convincingly as him. But he also thought he saw something deeper. Beneath the meaningless expression was a tinge of happiness; because this woman only smiled for a good reason it was her happiness he would have to figure out. The children followed quietly after but wore their emotion on their sleeves. Though they loved their big brother, they had to miss the airing of their favorite television program to attend another stuffy ceremony; they would watch the recording later. The guests had gathered by the stairs to see the birthday boy descend the marble staircase but they left a small path for him and his family to come on stage and share a few words before the socializing ended and the real, orchestrated dancing could finally begin. With the exception of the lady of the house, as was already mentioned, everyone dressed in their most expensive attire. In society it is the women who are the colored peacocks and the men the drab pea hens. To dress better in the outside world shows one considers it in higher regard than the family. In the oligarchs' circles, one would never wear beat up flannel pajamas around the house; but of course his guests did not dress this extravagantly when home. One could wear jeans while out shopping but certainly not while eating dinner with ones own family. As the family continued with all eyes following them, Yevgeny noticed his cousin Gerry. He was 28. In fact, he was 28 that very day. Gerry was the third son from the distantly related Pierce family that was trying to cozy up to the Fillmores and perhaps marry him to one of Yevgeny's sisters. Because the family always attended Yevgeny's birthdays, the older but inarguably least important eldest son of the Pierce family had not spent a birthday at home since he was seven. The young man glared at Yevgeny but his only reply was the same meaningless smile. "Thank you all for coming..." Maria beamed into the microphone. Applause. "After all, it's not like we get to see each other very often." Laughter. With so many marriages, funerals, birthdays, and ascensions, the richest and most powerful core saw one another every fortnight while those on the outside like cousin Gerry got out every three months at the least. "But this is more than an occasion for fun. Like any powerful association of people we must ensure our holds are secure and that no usurpers come close to penetrating our spheres ever again!" Applause. Earlier in the fiscal year one oligarch, Otto Arthur, lost his company in a hostile take over to a coalition of small business owners and stock corporations. The five closest families air lifted lawyers and sent catapults to throw money at the problem to get it back but since Arthur had proved himself incompetent, the Assembly got together and installed a talented up and comer who's commoner mother met her oligarch step-father while she was pregnant with her. Despite this history, Yevgeny had come to enjoy the woman's company and he hoped they would chat after the ball. Unfortunately he could not make her out in the crowd but he did see their mutual friends Franklin and William. The thunderous applause brought Yevgeny out of his day dream as the microphone was passed to him. He gave an embarrassed smile and brought his hand to the back of his head with great exaggeration. Those who knew little of him figured he was a shy and modest person who had trouble speaking to large crowds. Only his closest friends knew he played the part of the bashful tycoon around his peers and vicious business dictator at board meetings. "Well...um...thanks for coming. Mom pretty much said everything so I guess all I can do now is tell you to have fun..." he trailed off and innocently handed the microphone back to Maria. She glared briefly before raising her arms triumphantly to signal the band to play once again. Once off the stage, arms like tentacles of the social organism wrapped around Yevgeny and Maria. "Happy 21 first cuz," "You've done so well young man, keep it up," "No stopping you now if anyone could before," "Are we gonna close that deal tonight, Genie?" "Don't fuck up now birthday boy," "Oh really Gerry is that the kind of thing to say?..." From every direction hands and hugs attacked him until he reached the end of the long ball room. His siblings too were shaking hands but in fewer numbers and soon all but the oldest girl ran through a side for the children's party in the next room. It was not one minute before two males eyed her; if given just a choice between those two men, Yevgeny hoped Maria would pick the one without graying hair. Oligarchs Ch. 01.5 [[I pulled this section out of the first Oligarchs story and altered it around that decision. In this deleted scene, Edith does get to see her mother before she goes to Hawai'i and thus knows exactly why Drew looks sick. One does not need to have read the first story to understand this one however.]] Edith got to her mother's room and found a silver plated serving tray with an unopened bottle of un-chilled champagne and two glasses. Edith ignored its possible meanings and proceeded to the door regardless. Polite behavior in her family dictated that no information, no matter how much of an emergency short of fire, was enough to barge into someone's bedroom. She learned that lesson when she was just nine and caught her father Stanislov getting fucked by Constance with, what she later learned, a strap on. It did not matter this time however because, like Maria's, this one was locked. She walked back toward her room but turned around when she realized that this conspiracy between Henri and Maria was not an emergency short of fire—it was worse. It would destroy her married future while flames would simply make insurance premiums rise. Having luck with side rooms not fifteen minutes ago, she opened the servant's door to the bathroom and found the blonde Donna sitting on her right hip staring through a crack in the door to Constance's bedroom. The caught woman's eyes and mouth opened wide and she shook her head as if to say what Edith saw was not what it looked like. Edith was no fool and knew Donna was spying but Edith was curious first and furious second so she walked quietly to the crack giving causing so much interest. A quiet gasp escaped her mouth but she covered it with her hand as if to force the utterance back into her mouth. Atop a narrow and clearly sturdy coffee table laid Edith's attractive young tour guide Drew but his clothes were folded neatly in pile near his feet, his mouth had a large red ball gag in it, and his hands were handcuffed underneath the table which clearly had been moved from the nest of sofas five yards farther away from Edith and Donna. The onlookers saw his right side which pointed his head to the locked door where no help would come for him as he writhed weakly and screamed quietly into the ball gag. Edith was glad he had such broad shoulders otherwise the position would hurt much sooner. Before she could guess how long he was like that, her mother emerged from out of view. She wore a corset with garters, no panties to cover her jungle of gray and brown bush, and stockings so her large hips made her fifty year old ass jiggle with each step but her legs remain contained. Edith simply looked on in shock but Donna's breath became deeply nasal and a bit audible. The corseted Constance approached the helpless male and tickled him slightly as she rubbed a finger across his tight stomach and well toned chest. The handsome specimen was in no way a muscly man but quite fit and he seemed he could retain that the rest of his life with little effort. "You know Drew..." began Constance in a scratchy British accent from decades of smoking and absence from her homeland "...I think I'm going to like having you whenever I please." Drew seemed to plead and made make more noise under his gag but her nearly naked body concealed that part of him from the two women. "Of course that doesn't mean I'll be over a lot. Certainly more than once a year now that my daughter will with that handsome Yevgeny Fillmore..." she accentuated her words by spreading her hands over his chest and gripping his breast. "Oh why do you bother to scream?"she plead annoyed as she released him from her grip and looked down at him as she walked in circles. "No one will do anything. My daughter will own you my good sir and she can tell you to do whatever she pleases. She's a good girl so you can't fuck her...you naughty boy..." she lightly grasped his petrified limp penis "...she'll never cheat on her husband. She hasn't even had sex yet and most women find a way around that by her age...but that doesn't mean she isn't clever enough though—she has convictions!" she grasped his scrotum and shrunken penis and Drew made a pitiful scream. Edith knew her mother was right. She could have lost her virginity ages ago and not wait until 25. And she did have convictions. She was active in the Russian Orthodox church and while she was not entirely sure who God was or how he or she should be worshipped, the institutionalization of morals was an excellent way to keep people in line. Those convictions told her what her mother was doing was wrong. She nearly opened the bathroom door to stop the forced...whatever...and tell her mother the important news... "Your family owes the Fillmores so much you'll be here 'til you're fifty even if they don't cheat you you little commoner." ...that was of course until she heard that. Edith hated debtors. Modern business nearly requires one to spend money one does not have but people who borrowed from billionaires were the chronically in debt. She seemed to recall a United States Supreme Court decision that stated the thirteenth amendment to the U.S. Constitution, which barred slavery, involuntary and indentured servitude, did not apply to debtors who did not sign indentured contracts. She guessed Drew or his family were just such people. Her hand grasped the doorway and gripped it tightly in anger. "Make him understand Mom..." she whispered coldly. Constance released the man's package and walked around him again as she spoke. "Tell me Drew, do you think I'm attractive?" She traced one finger down sagging breasts' cleavage. Tired of hearing his own muffled words perhaps, Drew did not reply. Constance's face scrunched and she slapped him angrily and only then did he respond with the muffled words she wanted. "That's better..." For all she knew, Drew was calling her a "saggy assed whore." Quite suddenly, Constance swung her leg over the naked man's stomach and placed her hands upon his broad shoulders. It was quite low to the ground so her knees still bent and she could rest her weight upon the vulnerable man. His eyes moved back and forth from her pussy whose hair coarsely rubbed against his bare stomach and the eyes which carried such naked aggression. With great delicacy, she lifted his head and unstrapped the ball gag from the poor man's mouth. He thanked her politely and stretched his jaw but was welcomed by a few loud bone cracks. "You do one thing I don't tell you to do, this stays on all night with you sleeping like this." She did not even ask him to agree. Edith heard of this kind of sex play but Drew seemed to be in genuine fear of her mother. Her hips moved closer and Drew's nostrils filled with the musk she secreted onto his chest like a wild animal marking its territory. He hated licking pussy and he hated bartending for rich folks but he needed to pay off his family's debt any way he could and this seemed the best course. But he had not signed up for this! Quickly it was at his mouth and she held up his head to press it against her aching snatch. He tried to remember his old tricks from High School but the only thing that came to mind was to lick the alphabet. He dove right in, not going for the clitoris though, he remembered that part very well, and sloppily licked the older woman's folds. Constance had not had sex with anyone for over three years. Stanislov had gone impotent and refused to take erectile dysfunction medication because he "didn't have a problem." So while this young man clearly sucked her juices to the boring and predictable alphabet song it was still the best thing she had had in years; and besides, the hum accentuated the whole act when he neared her clitoris for the As, Gs, Is, Js, Ls, Os, Ss, Ts, and Ws. His unpleased silence otherwise magnified the deep pleasure she received and when Constance neared orgasm after a dozen minutes of this forced cunnilingus, she moaned and even screamed. Constance and Stanislov had practiced bondage and submission before but it all felt so silly. Rape fantasies were only fantasies and her husband was not the type to be tied up and left for her pleasure—he was far too busy for that. Drew was an opportunity to genuinely rape someone without legal ramifications. Unfortunatley being a woman, she could not force a genuinely scared man, not a role player who longed for punishment and "rape,"to fuck her so she was confined to cunnilingus as far as submissive things he could do to her but there were other submissive acts she had in mind. As she squeezed his head against her even harder and his tongue worked quicker, she neared the point of no return but quickly lept backwards onto his stomach to avoid a pleasurable orgasm. Drew's sweaty head collapsed from exhaustion and surprise against the table and, his breathing deep with a quick tempo, compensated for the lost air. She too was sweaty and flush but she waited until her clitoris was not so close to orgasm before she dared move again. This afternoon was going to be long and she would ride out one cum as long as possible. "I need to use the loo..." Edith and Donna gasped suddenly and nearly ran out the exit door but Constance did not come near the bathroom. Instead she stayed atop him and brought her snatch to Drew's panicked face once again. "Lick off my juice," she commanded and Drew obeyed. He moved each slimy repulsive lip of the old woman's pussy and searched for the bitter white mucus her menopausal body produced very little of. Without warning, she grabbed his head once again and slammed it into her cunt. But instead of giving him room to wiggle his tongue around, she clasped it tightly against her. He felt the muscles in her stomach relax and a slight sigh come from her throat as an unseen stream of hot urine hit the back of his throat and caused him to gag. Straining his neck, he escaped her stream and turned his mouth to the side where he spit the sickly yellow liquid onto the floor. She grunted loudly from the sting to stop the stream from being wasted against his chin. "We're doing this again!" she screamed as she smacked him repeatedly. "You had better not give anything more for your maids to clean up or so help me!" she snapped. "But Mrs. Zamyatin, it hit my gag reflex!" he pleaded. "Then I guess I'll just have to aim for your tongue so you can taste it better." With that she brought his mouth to her piss hole, again Drew felt her muscles relax but this time she moaned with greater relief and the piss reentered on his tongue. It curled his tongue because of the foul taste and he wished to swallow his tongue to escape tasting it further; it took great effort of mind to swallow the urine that caused the revulsion. Unlike men, women's piss does not come in a steady stream; A rifle with conventional bullets versus buckshot. That meant his mouth filled with more piss quickly; his cheeks expanded, his tongue depressed, and he stopped breathing—anything to get the foul liquid out of his mouth and avoid her painful slaps but this meant only swallowing. His quick grudging swallows could not keep pace and a pool rippled deeply in his mouth as the gusher shot and bubbled into it. Luckily her tight seal onto her pussy provided a stopper so even as the piss rose above his bottom lip, it did not overflow. A few sputtering sprays signaled its end and she let his head drop against the table. His cheeks were still filled with her bitter piss and he quickly tried to swallow it not to anger her. She pinched his nose. "Hold it in you poor piece of shit," she said maliciously. This was truly no game. Drew was suffering humiliation from a total stranger and, as his shriveled cock showed, in no way enjoying it. "Hold it..." she said encouragingly. He writhed his body in vain as if it would conserve precious oxygen and just as he was going to spit out the urine and damn the consequences, she released his nose. He quickly breathed through his flared nostrils but some piss piggy backed along with the air entering his lungs and he was sent into a furious coughing fit which spat the remaining piss into the air, onto his face, and the floor. Constance was furious and smacked coughing man with the back of her hand as he desperately struggled for breath and the removal of her poison. "So that's how you treat your superiors, huh? Well I'm not done with you yet..." she added menacingly. She turned herself around until her wide ass was directly at his chin. It was as hairy as her pussy, smelled far worse, and because the table he lied on was so low, she could sit down on his chest until it pointed right at him. To Edith and Donna it appeared as if his chest were a low chair that made her knees bend at an acute angle. "Be my toilet paper!" she commanded. Drew turned his head as far from the crack as he could and Constance quickly turned her head and glared. She lifted her ass into the air and forcefully dropped it onto his face. Again Drew was deprived of air as her smelly ass and cunt filled his lungs whenever he could get a quick breath. His mouth reeked of urine but it was the only way he could get as much air as possible without tasting it. Stretching his jaw to reach beyond her wide ass, he got some air but Constance pressed harder onto it and he shrieked painfully into her muffling flesh. Desperate for more, he gave up and breathed through his nose but the foul smell of the old woman's sewer holes and her tickling hair took him into a coughing fit again; her tight seal upon his face forced him to cough in a near vacuum. Learning his lesson from earlier, he stopped resisting her and shouted "Mercy!" into her flesh between coughs; she eventually lifted it enough so he could breathe but still not escape her pungent asshole. "Lick my ass or we'll have to do that smothering again," she said looking away from him as she grasped his penis which had shrunk like a frightened turtle, "and I know you don't like that." Drew could not agree more but the foulness of what she was asking him to do made him consider, however briefly, the merits refusal and suffocation. But when he thought about his debt ridden family, he swallowed his pride and no matter how hard he tried, not his tongue and licked between her anus and pussy. It was relatively hair free and least likely to hold any surprises. "Mmmmm..." Constance softly sighed. He swirled his tongue, dragging the soft flesh with it but it must have been for a few seconds longer than she wanted for she slammed her ass crack over around his mouth and nose so all his breathing existed there. His arms vainly struggled under the coffee table and his legs kicked so violently that he did not feel muscle contractions in her abdomen. As he struggled for air, any air at all, she released a long wet fart that filled his lungs with his struggling breath and he shook his head to release himself from his foul smelling anal prison. She eventually raised herself yet again and gave him another chance to catch his breath but her ass rested at his chest, wet with his saliva. "Now do the hole..." was all she said as it came back down over his mouth. He again stuck his stuck his tongue out and licked around her small asshole. "Stick it in like you're licking my cunt you wanker." Drew complied and, after a few attempts, penetrated his tongue into her rectum. "Oooh, that's nice...." she sighed as his tongue swirled inside her. At this point he did not care what his tongue was touching as long as he did not have to bring it back into his mouth so he went for it and faked, as best he could, the actions of a willing partner. Again Constance's muscles tightened but this time he noticed it. He steeled himself to survive a fart into his mouth but this was quickly dispelled as her grunts became louder, her muscles stayed taught, and his tongue felt a firm, sharp object slowly coming to him. Her puckered anus stretched nearly an inch toward him with slurpy noises as a hard brown log of shit came from her bowels and poked its head out. "Eat it!" was all Constance shouted. Though hesitant of course, Drew thought again of his family and bit the bullet. The shit was nearly two inches in diameter but only three inches stuck out without tapering so he assumed he had far more shit to go. Biting down right at her anus, he dropped his head back against the table and at first treated the warm load as he would hot food, delicately rolling it side to side to keep it from burning his tongue. He finally bit down on the wet shit but it did not break into pieces. It spread like a large piece of gum, pinched to almost nothing in the middle but thick on his tongue and his cheek before they dropped in their respective places. Chewing it, he paused every few bites to breathe through his mouth so he would not taste the foul waste nearly as much but Constance had other plans. "Bring your head back to my ass and eat my shit!" she commanded. Drew looked and indeed there was more and it seemed to be tapering—ready to drop. "If that shit lands on your chest and not in your mouth, so help me!" The shit already in his mouth was too stuck together for him to swallow without fear of choking so he again opened his mouth in hopes of merely holding it in there. He bit the new shit into his mouth. It was longer than the first and stuck an inch out of his mouth right under his nose. His mouth was so full of shit he had to breathe through his nose, now making him taste it from within, and smell it from both her bowels and the excess sticking out his mouth. He nearly wretched as his first shit laced inhalation brought already swallowed shitty saliva and acid up his esophagus. "Now chew!" And he did. His jaw quivered, his mouth grimaced, his eyes teared with shame, but he chewed on. Bite after bite broke the brown shit logs into manageable chunks and his saliva mixed with it until it was liquid enough for his throat to handle it. After two minutes, the foul shit-berg that stuck out his mouth was completely in. Three minutes later, his pathetic whimpers were heard by Constance who had her ass inches from his face but kept her gaze upon him the entire time. Finally he swallowed it all and his mouth was free from her oppressive shit but not the odor. The piss and shit was too vile to inhale and he desperately wished he could spit out his tainted saliva but he had a feeling Constance would not like that. Smiling, Constance lowered her ass to his mouth once again. "Lick!" Drew reluctantly complied and swirled his tongue around her loosened anus. Now that his tongue was shittier than her crack, it was far easier but still disgusting. But it was when he stuck his tongue into her anus and he felt her contractions yet again that he felt another piece of shit coming. This time had could not prepare quickly enough and a lighter brown soft sticky viscous log launched into his mouth; when it struck the back of his mouth, it stiffly bent and made for the back of his throat to his gag reflex. At first he attempted to chew and swallow as he had before but it was simply coming too fast. Simply pressing the soft shit against his upper pallet, he flattened it and cautiously swallowed as inch after inch came and curled within his mouth. Just before the shit coming out his mouth neared the falling point it stopped, and Constance gave a contented sigh of relief. Drew did likewise but he knew he had plenty more to go. Constance turned herself around to face him but kept her ass merely inches from his shit chewing mouth. "Look at you..." she said with a disgusted sneer. "You're eating someone else's waste! Only sick fucks like that. Do you like that!?" She knew he could not answer but she could not help herself but to demand unreasonable things from him. She pushed her palm against the exposed shit and clamped it down tightly. He struggled underneath her as the compacted shit neared his gag reflex and threatened to choke him. With audible pats, she tape the shit as if she were molding it while he slowly chewed. Suddenly her face scrunched and she turned to face away from him yet again and released a splattering wet fart onto his face and into his lungs through his nose. He nearly coughed since, deprived of his mouth again, he breathed entirely through his nose. Oligarchs Ch. 01.5 Drew continued to chew as Constance unstraddled him, wiped her shitty hand across his cheek, and walked to the front door. Edith and Donna heard it unlatch and seconds later, Edith's mother came back holding the silver tray with the bottle of champagne and glasses she saw before she entered the bathroom and found Donna. While Edith stared in shock at what happened, Donna's breathing continued to steady and her eyes stare unblinkingly as if she got some great pleasure from it all. Drew's head lay motionless on the coffee table and his eyes stared blankly at the ceiling even as Constance began talking. "This wine was bottled on the hundredth anniversary of the year of the comet," she said as she set the tray down and readjusted her corset. "The Russian intelligentsia believed the comet made all the wine of that year special and so the the French vineyards in Champagne decided to capitalize on it in the early twentieth century. This is one-hundred year old wine," she continued as she produced a corkscrew and opened it with a loud pop drawing his gaze. Constance went down on all fours and rocked backwards and forwards to spread her ass before Drew. Grabbing the bottle, she took several long swigs and reached around to her ass. Grasping the bottle by the neck, she probed for her anus and, upon finding it, pushed the neck an inch inside. "You little shit-eater emptied me out. Now that there's some room, I thought it should be filled again," and with that she grabbed the bottle's bottom, brought her ass high into the air, and upturned the champagne. Drew, still chewing a wad of shit, stared in awe as it poured roughly into her ass and bubbled within the glass. When this proved to slow, she pressed the bottle against one side of her anus and let the air within escape to make room for the liquid. This worked and in no time the bottle was empty and she was full. She tossed the bottle and stood uncomfortably as the liquid begged to leave her ass and expel large amounts of shit with it as well. Knowing that in no time at all the bubbles would force a small fart to become a large bowel movement, she swiftly removed the key to his hand cuffs from her bosom and unlocked them. "Spit that out and get into the bathroom before I blow!" she cried as the stress brought sweat down her brow. He quickly spat out the brown shit now more like tobacco chew onto the floor and stood precariously as he felt the shit slosh around in the urine in his stomach and wreck his balance. His stomach was full but at the same time it seemed a hollow fullness. "Hurry and lie down on that floor!" she exclaimed. "Run!" Edith whispered to Donna who did not need to be told. They sprinted out the door they entered and shut it quietly just as Drew came in and laid himself on the cold tile floor. Constance stepped delicately as she clenched her cheeks to keep her anus closed but despite her efforts a small trickle of brownish liquid ran down her leg. She stepped one leg over his head and lowered her ass to his face. Resolving to keep it within her as long as possible, her position stressed her abdominal muscles and forced the bubbling air inside her bowels to demand an exit. Drew looked in numb horror as her spread cheeks revealed a quivering anus and small drops of shit wine fell onto his face and chest. Lowering herself directly on top of his mouth, she spread her cheeks wider and grunted with great pain. Holding out another minute, she finally relaxed and a stream of shit-wine shot down onto his face and splashed all over him. She turned her head and saw she was missing her target so she planted her ass over his mouth and fired jets of shit and champagne in long, loud bubbly farts that echoed within his cheeks. His nose could barely get enough air through her hairy ass and so he could not swallow fast enough, forcing some to to stream down the sides of his mouth and onto the floor where it spread in all directions. "Ahhhh-ah-ah-ah-ah!" she sputtered with each successive long and wet fart into his mouth. "Ahhhh..." she sighed as the farts became spaced farther apart like a bag of finished microwave popcorn but she planned to stay above him until she was spent. Drew continued to quickly swallow the pool of liquid shit spilling over his sides but occasionally he had to stop to belch through his nose. "Ahhhhhh..." sighed Constance as her last fart tooted and her ass hair dripped remains onto his face. Standing up, she walked to the sink and washed her hands. "Finish swallowing that and take a shower. I have to leave for Hawai'i in a half hour so let yourself out," she offered sternly. "But I'll stay and watch for a while so you don't go and purge my gift to you." Beaten, all Drew could do was vacantly nod and stare thoughtlessly at the ceiling as he swallowed her fetish and nearly a whole bottle of expensive champagne in the process. Softly he cried and he swore his tears too tasted like the shit and piss he would digest and carry with him for many hours. Oligarchs "Hey it's the Genie!" exclaimed a voice behind Yevgeny as hands landed roughly on his shoulders. He looked back and down slightly to see a thirty-ish brown woman in all her finery. "Ah Rosa my dear!" He turned around and embraced her. "I was looking for you in the crowd while I was on the stage." He released her and held her body with his gestured arms. "No wonder I couldn't find you! You're so radiant that you blinded me." Rosa flashed a disbelieving smile. "Why you little shit! No, no, no, no, no way! You know I know you're flirting with me, right?" "No." "Yeah, yeah soft guy. I see you've already stopped playing the part of the 'modest tycoon.' Does that mean you'll have a dance with me or is your cock block locked?" she asked as she, with surprisingly discreet and genteel movements mind you, cupped her hand at his crotch. Yevgeny barely flinched but instead shared a slight frown with Rosa when she discovered his chastity belt remained in place. Ever since puberty he had had it on always except for night time when he could pleasure himself and be secure from women attempting to "take advantage of him." Not all men in his position wore them but he knew of at least twenty in that very room. "Darn..." Rosa pouted "...I was hoping to get some blue blooded baby in me so I won't hear anymore snickers when I get to the office," she added half kidding. "Sure. But you're forgetting it would be doubly good for you since I have blue balls as well," he joked but quickly became serious. "That's too bad about the snickers. I consider myself a society gentlemen like every man here but you'd more than proved your skills before the Assembly made you chairman." Rosa smiled and quickly grasped his hand. "C'mon, let's dance!" she exclaimed behind her as she snaked through the large crowd and dragged him closer to the stage. The music playing fit more with rock swing and big band than the jazz played before so it was next to impossible for anyone not to dance. This was no musical where everyone moved in coordinated song and dance with their neighbors; occasionally couples stepped on each other's toes, crashed, and no one threw the women into the air like rag dolls. This was especially true with Yevgeny and Rosa because, though beautiful, she was voluptuous and would be hard to lift. He resigned himself to simply grasping her fleshy waist during the faster songs and gently pressing her head and breasts against his chest as they rocked during the slower ones. For what seemed hours Yevgeny and Rosa danced with many interruptions. It was custom for the unmarried to change partners every once in a while but most of the time they danced together. Yevgeny had to dance with a few society girls to please Maria. He never understood why near perfect strangers cared to dance with him. All it would do is create emotional attachment and later heartbreak when it turned out his stepmother had chosen someone else for his bride. Why risk falling in love? He loved Rosa for sure but it was not a practical love; it was one of the close friendship they shared the last few years. Besides, all the girls were annoying; they were always bashful and rarely looked him in the eyes. The two dancers retired to the bar, sipped their drinks, and talked as they gazed at their peers who slowly danced with expressionless stares over their partner's shoulder. The details of the conversation at the bar would not be worth mentioning unless outback mining projects in Australia's Northern Territory was interesting so no further mention will be made. "But I wanna know where the name 'Australia' came from!" "Who cares Genie! It doesn't matter!" "That doesn't mean I still don't wanna know!" Yevgeny shouted above the music. He moved closer to Rosa's smiling face and hushed his voice. "You know why I think it's called 'Australia?'" "Why?" she adorably scrunched her eyes and nose and brought her face closer to his. She did not really care—she simply liked seeing him get worked up about something other than work. "Think of Aurora-Australis, OK? The 'Southern Lights.' Then break down 'Australia.' Aust-ral-ia. So that means it's 'southern' something, right? So where does the 'ia' come from? I think it's half of 'Asia' so therefore 'Australia' is 'the southern Asia.'" "You do?" Rosa asked in disbelief. "Yes," he replied with all seriousness. "You could just look that up and know for sure, you know." "What fun would that be?" he smiled. His eyes wandered back to the people around the bar and he spotted Maria for the first time since they came down from the stage. "There it is again!" he exclaimed in a whisper. "What?" "That smile of hers—she's looking at us right now. She's up to something I know it. That's the smile of a pleased woman Maria only sees a few times a year. Someone so impressed with something she's done. But what?" Out of nowhere, a young man no older than eighteen approached Rosa and offered his hand to her. She quickly glanced at Yevgeny. "I hope you figure it out dear. This young man is gonna give this old girl a good time!" she laughed. He may be young, but she needed to make her mark in society somehow and making an impression with any landed boy or man would help her; unless of course he was a bad dancer and she would have to find some other young boy to seduce. This left Yevgeny enjoying a second martini and staring at the dancers. Moments later, the band stopped playing and Maria climbed to the stage. The ball became deathly quiet as she held the microphone. "Don't worry everyone the party is not over quite yet. In fact, it's only just beginning for one of us. I could say something eloquent to express everything I'm feeling for my son at this moment if only it..." she seemed to hold backs tears "...if it weren't these same emotions I want to express are choking me up." This time she shed some tears though Yevgeny doubted they were real. "I have found my son Yevgeny a bride..." she blurted. Astonished gasps left every mouth but the ones of single women from twelve to thirty-five; they cried real tears because they knew they were not the chosen one. "Unfortunately weather grounded her flight but she will be here tomorrow and we'll all see you at the wedding in a week at Hawai'i!"She dropped the microphone on the floor and quickly left the stage. Those who could see Yevgeny slowly turned their heads and gawked. They all offered enthusiastic applause though he wondered how genuine it was. Nearly all the single women certainly did not mean it and nor did many of the bonded ones; these married couples knew the love-lessness of their arranged union was a cage but the facade of happiness had to be maintained. Such quirks in his society were not noticed by Yevgeny who simply accepted it as the reality of his world. Yevgeny was easily the most wanted bachelor under thirty, maybe under forty depending on one's taste, and now he was not for sale. What was more, who was this woman? Did Yevgeny, or anyone else for that matter, know who she was? He could only lean against the bar, sip his drink, and give a pleasantly surprised smile in reply. Only the surprise was genuine. "I don't need a queen...." he said to himself. ENTER THE PROTAGONIST "My dear Edith, my love for you has existed since the moment our eyes met all those years ago!" exclaimed an obese soft man inside a trendy St. Petersburg café. The Edith he was talking to sat across from him. "You're the most beautiful girl in the whole city and I must have you for my wife! Please, insist your mother pick me and I will make you eternally happy!" Edith wore a face of disinterest. In certain Muslim cultures, betrothed or even "looking" women are meant to keep an air of disinterest and avoid eye contact with their potentials. This girl however was not Muslim nor was she interested in what the man was saying and out of disgust wished not to look into his pudgy face. After he called her, only an average beauty, "the most beautiful girl in the whole city," she knew the rest would be bullshit. She did not consider the possible allure of the quarter Asian blood in her veins which gave her slightly fatty eyelids because she utterly hated them every time she looked in the mirror. Rather than pay attention to him, she reviewed what she had to bring for an American cousin's 21st birthday the following day. "I have begun to write poetry again with you as my muse. I dare not read any of it to you without your request however..." He remained quiet and awkwardly awaited permission but received none. "Why do you say nothing my sweet? Please, what do you think of me?" Edith realized this was a question worthy of response and if she did not discourage him at that moment, he would continue to "woo" her. To think she specifically did not wear make up and chose her mangiest overalls for no use. She could say many things to him. "You have no business sense, you lack social tact, and you're incapable of doing anything without servants" were the first to come to mind. "You can write all you wish and because of your position in the market people will listen and some will even humor you with good reviews but that's about it. Mother will find me a better husband whom I cannot talk down to...." All these were perfectly accurate things to say but instead she chose the same three and a half words she used every time he asked that question. "You're useless, Oblomov." With that she guzzled her remaining coffee, removed her thick parka from the hooks by the door, and left the fat society man sitting dumbfounded at the small round table. Edith did not smile over her victory because this was only one of a dozen such exchanges yet still he pestered her for lunches or breakfasts together. The café was mere blocks from Edith's family's building but the December chill and snow stretched the handful of minutes into ten before she was in the elevator and came to the receiving floor of her family's apartment. A whole wall was one large window and gave the room and its plush couches a very warm feeling despite the cloud cover of an impending snow storm. She bent the back of her knees on one couch and with her arms crossing her chest, fell backwards onto it. She closed her eyes and absorbed the greenhouse-like heat and texture surrounding her. "This must be what the womb feels like..." she said quietly to herself. "Of course you'd be a fine judge of that, wouldn't you," said a stern woman by her head in slightly accented Russian. "At the very least it's the closest I've been to the real thing since birth," she replied dreamily without opening her eyes. "I'll give you that dear. So how was your date with Oblomov Konstantivich?" "Mother! Why do you insist I see that man! He's denser than platinum and is wasting other elements—namely oxygen." "But he's well off dear" she said as she exhaled an unseen puff of smoke from her imported Lucky Strikes "...and not many well off men would like a 25 year old plain wife with a brilliant mind no matter what family she's from. They'd worry you would kill them in a few years, take over, do a better job, and soon everyone would 'forget' how he died." "Have you been reading my diary, Mom?" Edith replied jokingly. But not really. Indeed those thoughts were in there and she would resort to such methods if she were stuck with an incompetent like Oblomov. For the sake of surprise, her mother Constance but especially her father Stanislov Ivanovich Zamyatin kept her business training and, with all modesty on her part, great skill in management a secret. The best chance of landing a successful husband was to be beautiful, intelligent, cultured, and have no practical experience in handling business affairs. An intelligent, cultured, but plain Jane girl like Edith needed training just in case she ended up with a forty year old man-child like Oblomov. "Oh dear, you..." the mother stopped abruptly as a maid caught her attention. "Mistress, you have a phone call and it seems urgent." Constance put the cigarette to her lips, quickly inhaled, and noisily exhaled to express proper annoyance. She pointed an unoccupied and unseen finger to her daughter's closed eyes and scowled. "You'll take who Stanislov and I pick, do you hear me?" With unnatural volume, Edith snored. When her mother finally left the room, she instantly 'woke up' and climbed the first spiral staircase to the next floor which contained the bedrooms. She put on her glasses, climbed onto her bed, turned on her stereo, and caught up on the week's worth of newspapers she neglected while she practically slept in her father's office during a crisis situation. Beneath her she heard her mother periodically make great shouts in English over the phone-- "'Sounds urgent'—Yeah right." Moments later Constance nearly ripped Edith's bedroom door off its hinges as she pushed it open. "I have found you a husband! He's my late sister's son Yevgeny Fillmore!" "Yevgeny Fillmore? Tall guy, American, really shy?" she asked with cautious interest. "Yep, that's him." "I don't know. He always seemed kind of a soft boy to me." "And you're a delicate flower? That's the beauty of it, honey. Sometimes I have to get the scoop through that bitch who took my sister's place, but it's quite clear to me that it's just an act like we do with you. Why, this is unconfirmed of course..." she said lowering her voice and inching closer to her daughter "...that after his step-uncle tried a hostile takeover, Yevgeny killed him. In less than a year he lost his first mentor, my old brother, and killed his other mentor. And Fillmore shipping..." her voice resumed a normal volume "...is doing quite well. Look it up in one of those newspapers you have—I'm sure his stock will be in there." "So is there going to be an announcement at his birthday party or something?" "Absolutely. Maria, his stepmother, told me he won't know until then. I think she believes this is a kind of punishment for him or something but we know better. You two will be a perfect match! And to think, I was just about to promise you to that disgusting Oblomov! So pack your bags, freshen your American English, and we'll get going!" she said giddily as she skipped away like a stereotypical Japanese school girl her race vaguely made her resemble. Edith smiled to herself and sat cross legged as she scanned the stock pages. Indeed, Fillmore Shipping was doing quite well. There was even an article about innovations spearheaded by Chairman and majority stockholder, Yevgeny Fillmore, that saved millions USD with minimal job cuts. Whether or not people got fired in order to save otherwise wasted money did not concern her; the handsome man's featured engraving stared competently at her and she became moist underneath her chastity belt. If she had to marry someone, a woman certainly could do no better. UNLEASHED Yevgeny calmly walked through the gawking crowd and smiled his empty smiles until he passed them all and shock took over his face. He exited the ballroom and sat hunched over on a velvet bench. This move of Maria's was completely unexpected. As with aristocratic families both royal and business throughout history, they often intrigued against another for favor with the King. Yevgeny was incontestable and nearly the King. This meant her intrigue against him could produce only one predictable outcome—a punishment for her. But what could he do to her yet stay socially beloved? But going beyond the inevitable punishment for her, what outcomes could he not predict? Since he knew nothing of his bride and could not even begin to speculate, he simply rested his head into his hands—careful not to mess up his hair for when he returned to the party. It was not long at all before Rosa and two mutual friends, William and Franklin, exited the ball to look for him. They were pleasantly surprised when he was simply right outside the door which they closed after themselves. All three friends searched each other for ideas. They loved their friend very much despite his often cold demeanor and knew he would loathe their consoling words. Besides, he was not sad. He was simply surprised—or so he wanted to convince himself. Marriage was very much like death; he knew both were in his future and was only reminded when the ceremonies for each were concluded but at which point he quickly forgot. He was even the best man at Franklin and William's weddings not nine and eleven months ago respectively yet he never once imagined himself with a bride. "C'mon..." Franklin broke the ice. "...let's get fucked up..." They grasped his wallowing hands and pulled him smiling down the hallway. The four friends sat in an elegant and large room distant from the hordes at the ball. The furniture was plush and the sofa they sat in was a large quarter circle looking onto a central stage where their eyes stared without blinking. "So Genie..." William began. He said it slowly but correctly leaving one to guess his mind was occupied. "Any idea who this girl is?" "Well she has to be..." Franklin inhaled deeply, "she has to be someone who wasn't here." "And...she...is...um....probably on your stepmother's side. I doubt she would let you...get a wife who'll make you happy," added William. Rosa, like the others, was quite flushed and grasped the couch cushions. "Who knows? Maybe she...um..." she licked her lips slightly "...she's being nice all of a sudden." "Will you guys shut up about this for now, I'm trying to watch," said Yevgeny as he pointed to the stage in front of them where everyone's eyes lay. Like a lotus flower in a decretive pot, an Indian woman seemingly straight from a harem laid her back against numerous soft pillows. Her legs spread before her audience not fifteen feet away, she gently rubbed her forefinger against her luscious labia. Her eyes gazed at the ceiling and she bit her lip ever so slightly as she caressed her sex. A few minutes passed and her wetness spread into every fold allowing quicker movement. Soon her wrist pressed against the sparse pubic hair and she furiously impaled her pussy with two fingers as she cupped one breast and massaged it. Every exaggerated moan was responded with four from her viewers as they enjoyed her erotic display. She was paid to entertain but if she could get herself off at the same time, it was all the better. The woman paced herself enough that twenty minutes passed before her, again exaggerated, screams echoed throughout the room and her audience waited with baited breath. The woman removed her fingers from her pussy ensuring gobs of her juice dripped down them nearly to her wrist. She walked to her onlookers with a sideways strut that shook her unseen ass and petite breasts. The woman walked around a table and stood before them displaying her drenched fingers. She knew two of the men were married and thus it was against the rules to offer them her prize but this did not bother her. Instead she looked to the thirty-ish brown woman and offered her fingers. Rosa delicately held her hand and sucked the juice with a deep moan after she had sucked, licked, and separated her desirable fingers. As she finished, two more naked women, these ones white and carrying a hookah, appeared from nowhere. The Indian seized Rosa by the head and brought their lips together in a deep kiss. The new girls placed the hookah at the table before the audience and prepared the fortified tobacco and coal. The men each grabbed a hose but kept their eyes upon Rosa who was currently holding the lotus blossom's head as they shared sloppy kisses; the blurbling hookah noise briefly drowned out the passion and their content eyes closed as they held mango flavored tobacco in their lungs; it was a special tobacco immune from narcotics laws but that did not matter anyhow as none present—except for the entertainment perhaps if no effort was made—would ever be jailed on drug charges. Separately they exhaled the bluish smoke and groaned pleasantly whilst the women unzipped the married men's pants. Intercourse was explicitly forbidden for the same reasons Yevgeny wore the chastity belt but blowjobs were harmless fun for bored men in their prime and wives understood that. Oligarchs The one woman show and Rosa's continued smooching left Franklin and William with raging hard-ons which one girl gripped with each hand and gently squeezed as the men inhaled again from the hookah. The other girl brought her mouth to the Indian's snatch and slurped noisily as she ate her pussy like a pig in a trough. Yevgeny felt his erection struggle against his cock prison and so he checked his watch. It had been about fifty minutes since he left the ball and the maid Henri would be in his room soon. He took one more hit from the hookah and left just as Franklin's dick was sticky with saliva and Rosa attempted to finger her new friend as the other girl lapped the drippings. Yevgeny's butler Oswald had the honor of removing master's chastity belt in his trailer home sized bathroom every night. It involved unlocking a cage of sorts which connected right above his testicles so he could not forcibly remove it without getting rid of them also and a cylindrical cage a little bigger than a flaccid penis. Oswald noticed master's raging erection pushing against vinyl layered metal bars and drops of pre-cum but hesitated to remove them with his tongue. Some time ago he helped master release frustration with his mouth but for some reason he had not asked him to do so for a couple years. He wished he knew why this was so he could end it and please his master until he became married some day "How was the party Master Yevgeny?" the old queer asked as he delicately removed the device. The young man did not look into his bald servant's eyes "I'll have a wife in a week. I suppose that's news," Yevgeny said mundanely. Oswald's eyes nearly burst from his skull as he stared dumb in the space his young master had just left. He stayed there kneeling Yevgeny entered his room through the bathroom's connecting doorway and found an exhausted old Rickman panting in an armchair. Having entered the bathroom through the maid's door, he did not see his dutious family servant who, as a little boy, had shined Yevgeny's father's shoes when the late Fillmore was Yevgeny's age. "I'm sorry master, I looked everywhere and I couldn't find them. Sorry for the mess..." Yevgeny scanned the room and found nothing out of place. If anything it was even neater now as Rickman fixed the damage he did and then some. "It's OK. Turns out they were on my sleeves the whole time. I guess I forgot to tell you," he added humorously. Rickman gave a forced and exhausted laugh back and, with a slouch, slowly shuffled out the door. Yevgeny looked in the mirror as he undid his tux and hung it in his specially marked dry cleaning closet. He turned off the lights and slipped naked under his sheets but kept his back against the headboard. It was no time at all before Yevgeny heard naked delicate footsteps upon his hardwood floor. He looked to the noise at his left and could faintly make out a figure but either from his eyes reacting to the darkness and or the drug he just smoked, it seemed to be two dimensional and be the consistency of water in a cold night. The figure raised his comforter and scraped its skin against sheets in a familiar noise that made him sleepy. It finally came close enough for him to see the delicate wrinkles and slight double chin of his former wet nurse Henrietta. She cuddled against him and wrapped her arm across his chest. Her head found its usual place in the nook of his shoulder and she inhaled his masculinity. Yevgeny was not in love nor did he even like Henri on a personal level so luckily they stayed like that for only a short while before her draped arm found its way to Yevgeny's now soft cock. She gently squeezed and stretched his sack to loosen his bullets but soon moved to his prick. He closed his eyes and imagined his face buried in the Indian girl's snatch; his fingers would curl deep inside her and struggle to meet his tongue as it ravaged her engorged clit. His memory even produced a musky smell which seemed to hover above his nose and flare his nostrils. In no time at all, his cock was rock hard and stood a respectable height of seven inches. He was always surprised that his first free erection of the day did not violently shake like a person stretching after a long car ride but it felt just as relieving. The sexual pattern Henri developed (though unknown to her) had long been figured out by Yevgeny. If she had been with him within two or three days, she usually savored his cock with a teasing blowjob followed by rough cowgirl to get his cum inside her as quickly as possible. There were other times where she had not been with him in a week or more and she went straight for penetration. As she slid her body under the sheets and along his firm frame, she surprised him by straddling his hips. They fucked no more than two days ago and this was the first breech of her pattern since he started observing. She flung the sheets behind her and hovered her mass above her young charge. "I heard that soon I'll lose my baby boy to some bitch. Maria should have talked with your mommy..." she said as she ground her moist and hairy pussy against his cock onto his abdomen. "I've been more a mother to you than she ever was. I should have made that decision!" she exclaimed wide eyed and with a deep stare. "It would have been me!" Yevgeny gazed immediately behind her to make it appear he was listening. She frequently came into moods such as these and claimed many things. He just wished she would stick his cock in and let him release so he could go to bed. "You know why? Cus you're my little boy!" she yelled maniacally as she grasped the base of his cock and forced it into her. His arousal from earlier kept his prick sensitive despite the break it took in the interim so he felt every millimeter of the older woman's pussy slide and envelope his dick. She took it slowly into her and paused occasionally to contract her vaginal muscles and milk him. Yevgeny groaned both times she did this. Finally she came to the hilt and slowly ground into him. "All for mommy, all for mommy..." she chanted. Yevgeny's eyes finally adjusted to the darkness and saw the naked figure gyrating her hips into him. Her bulges at her waistline were firm but plentiful and her hanging breasts displayed small aureolas; both signs of her childless life. His first memory of her was when she took him to the zoo on his fourth birthday. Looking back he noticed little bits of her behavior which he later learned were signs of pedophilia. She always complimented his good looks, called him sexy, and left dirty magazines about his bedroom in the hopes, he guessed, that in his sexually restrictive environment he could only express it with her and she could love the boy she called "son" in the fullest way possible. Being smart as he was, he figured her out long ago and had for the last few years simply masturbated into her. "...all for mommy, all for mommy..." Henri continued with strained breath. Yevgeny kept his arms at his side and simply closed his eyes to concentrate all feeling into the head of his cock. She bent and placed her palms on the bed by his chest for support. Their mouths were less than a foot from each other and her hot sweaty breath attacked him. She knew not to kiss him; he told her that from the very beginning of their affair. As a substitute she worshipped his chest with licks and kisses. His nipples were ravaged by her hungry tongue and his cock impaled her gaping hole every time her ass plunged onto him. Feeling his prick stir, he forced her head against his chest with one arm and her ass with his cock inside her cunt against his hips with the other. "Yes! Cum for mommy! Give your mommy all your cum my little boy!" she shrieked. Streams of seed from a night of chastity belt false starts injected into Henri's barren womb and his last small burst made him shudder; she replied with a loving gentle sway while his softening cock stayed within. Cuddled on top of him, she cooed as his heavy breathing raised and lowered her. Yevgeny allowed her this moment of closeness but, like the sex, did not appreciate it as much as she. The moment his penis limped out of her wet snatch, she went onto her back and produced a bit of cloth (from thin air?) he could not make out in the darkness. She raised her legs to her chest to keep Yevgeny's seed deep inside her as she stuffed the bit of cloth into her pussy like a stopper. The entire length of their affair she had done this and he assumed it was some impossible desire to have children or take a piece of him with her wherever she went; Henri quickly stood up and went naked into his bathroom. He reasoned she left her uniform in there before she slipped naked past an occupied Rickman to find a hiding spot. Henrietta slid her fishnet stockinged feet into her heels and patted her nurse uniform's skirt to remove invisible wrinkles. Grabbing her bucket of cleaning supplies for an alibi on her way, she exited using the second door and walked down a long corridor away from the presently empty ballroom where a real mess she could be cleaning was. As she exited, she did not notice Oliver hiding behind a large potted plant and giving her a stare of pure jealousy and hatred. Consequences of Yevgeny's centrally located bedroom were numerous. It cut his travel time anywhere in the mansion by half. Demands for goods or information he made in his adjacent study would be answered quickly. And a consequence many would consider negative—it had no windows. Yevgeny was convinced some time ago by his uncle that vitamin D wakes a man earlier than he needs and though Yevgeny soon realized it was the Sun's heat and light and not the vitamin that woke someone up, the old habit stayed with him and he avoided windows in his sleeping quarters ever since. So instead of the Sun's happy rays, Henrietta's seemingly shining smile and gentle poking woke him at approximately ten o'clock. MORNING Yevgeny wished for more sleep; this was the first time in months he squeezed in more than six hours and he intended to milk it. "Get up master Yevgeny. Mistress has asked me to wake you up and meet your future wife in the bar...." she said with a look that said she wanted to milk him. His eyes widened, he rose from his bed, and walked to his closet to find a suitable outfit. "I was told not to tell you she was here so I would not dress to impress," she suggested as she left him alone. With uncompromising routine, he entered his bathroom where Oswald awaited him. He pissed, showered, and let the old man lock his chastity belt in place. Soon he would not have to wear it ever again and he thought this better than any sex he could imagine. Henri's words on dressing to impress however had no bearing on what he wore when he first met his fiancé; why lie with clothing and imply one always looked a certain way? He was about to spend the rest of his life with this woman and he certainly would not wear a sports coat every second. He chose nicely pressed khakis and a designer shirt tamed with a tuck and a black leather belt that matched his shoes. "Even when I'm not trying I look pretty good..." he said as he admired himself in his full length mirror. The spacious bar was simply a one minute walk below to the second floor but without realizing it Yevgeny slowly strolled and clenched his fists. "It's no big deal!" he yelled at himself. "This happens to everyone—you knew it would happen—snap out of it..." At last he came to the entrance and put his palm against the modest heavy fire-door (it would be improper to give a bar grand entrance). He felt great heat in his stomach and his beads of sweat descended his forehead. He faintly heard music as he gently pushed the door open and peeked into a room; Maria and his blood aunt Constance sat, with tea cup and saucer in hand, facing the door but did not appear to see him. They spoke facing a woman, whom he could only see had brown hair, who sat on a high backed couch. He nodded as he reasoned this to be his cousin; unfortunately he had never really talked to her and could not recall her name nor what she looked like. Constance was an old woman of 51 who reminded Yevgeny of his mother. Her brown hair admirably fought Father Time and her hair grayed only at the temples and a small patch on her forehead but the rest of her body did not bear well. Her hair pulled back too tightly in a bun, her forehead had a gloss which reflected ricocheting light beams coming from lamps and reflecting against the fine dish and glassware housed in their displays. Whenever she spoke she habitually tucked an invisible lock of hair behind her right ear but from what he knew first hand, it was all an act part of the second and third guessing that happened in the oligarchy. Behind those eyes laid a beast he reckoned no one but her husband (more playfully) and his enemies (more constructively) ever saw. Deception equaled survival. The mystery cousin set two objects which gently rubbed against each other in a high shudder, presumably a matching cup and saucer, upon a table he could not see. She rose and walked left to a bar tended by the young butler named Drew, presumably asked for a drink, and received a pinkish liquid which she drank deeply of. Constance gave an expressionless stare at the handsome young man serving drinks clearly to hide whatever she was thinking as she gazed at his strong chin and broad shoulders. Yevgeny stared at his cousin as she stood there emptying her drink at this early hour. She defied not only common social obligation to dress well with family and friends but also the stricter standards for "courtship" by wearing bright dark-blue overalls and a short red shirt which showed some of her waist. Her back remained to him so he did not see her face but even if he could, he was certain his eyes would remain at her most identifying feature—her ass. Though she did not appear fat, Yevgeny speculated that on a bodymass/height index chart, her ass would catapult her into obese. A pear to an extreme, her hips were far wider than her shoulders and it was beyond hope of concealment. She finished her drink and turned to the door where she spotted Yevgeny. Realizing he was caught, he wiped his brow and bolted through with overcompensation as if he were just coming to the door and walked to the three women. "Aunt Constance. It is a pleasure to see you again..." he spoke with genteel warmth. He silently awaited her or Maria's reply but did not look at his cousin who was now sitting back into her couch. "Um..." faltered Maria "You remember Edith Zamyatin of course," she said answering her internal rhetorical question. "Of course," he lied with a polite nod to her. Her name back into his mind, he recalled a thought some years ago when he first wondered how a Russian was given a name like 'Edith.' He gazed at her face for a moment; she was an average beauty with an average nose, average lips, untrimmed eyebrows that, though not a jungle, showed she cared little of beautification, and steel-blue eyes with a flint of cunning. Could his stepmother's punishment for him be a trap instead of a burden? His fears were briefly sullied however when he noticed something else about her face; he glanced at Constance to be certain but had already arrived at his conclusion. Edith had the same bone structure as his mother or more accurately, her mother, his aunt. The defined jaw line and chin with the same Asiatic cheek bones. On a skinny woman it would be stern and unattractive but on normal or voluptuous women it was very motherly; still authoritative but compassionate and knowing; her slight age advantage, he guessed to be a few years, reinforced this perception. The women on his mother's side always had this trait and they were the more beautiful for it. As the thought left him, the music he first heard when he cracked the door crept into his consciousness again. "I'm sorry we cood not make it to your birthday party. A snow storm grounded our plane," offered Edith who looked into Yevgeny's still staring eyes. He heard her accented English and took his mind out his daydream. "Yes..." he said in monotone "...we could have had a dance together. Well—we have the next week to reacquaint. I don't believe we spoke much the last few visits." "No we haven't. What are you doo-ing later too-night? I've noticed you have a splen-did garden and the weather hasn't become bitterly cold yet." "Today is my day away from the office. I suppose I can give you a stroll through the grounds seeing as how this will be your home from now on." Edith smiled. "Excellent. Shall we meet by the fountain in back at nine?" "Certainly. I look forward to it." "Excellent. Now zit down...." she said with a playful smile as she patted the cushion next to her "...you standing like that is making me nervous." Yevgeny suspected her cheerful behavior was the result of one of two things: Either she was genuinely direct, honest, and nice or she was cunning and had a plot best hidden if she was direct, honest, and nice. No matter her motives he resolved to play along and not show his next move because he had not the first clue of what to do. Yevgeny did as Edith instructed and as if by magic a cup of tea was before him. He brought it cautiously to his lips to test it but the heavy inhalation of the smell overwhelmed his nose and he coughed slightly spilling miniscule drops of the burnt umber liquid. Edith smiled politely. Her mother said his foolishness was an act just like hers. That he was not actually shy and clumsy in real life just as she was not ignorant of business was possible she supposed but she already began to doubt her. She may just have to use him for children and run Fillmore Shipping herself. Realizing she appeared to be deep in thought, she quickly washed the concern from her face and resumed the vacant smile to convince Maria she had picked the perfect ignorant match. As with all conversations with the women who did not manage or own corporations, the conversation shifted to gossip. Yevgeny pretended to have little interest and find it anathema to his cut and dried world of profit and speculation but even he admitted to himself it was a great way to keep tabs on his far flung relatives. "...and who knows what can happen to Mackenzie, Oldenburg, Nadelbaum, and Ingraham. The firm wouldn't allow such behavior to tarnish their image and the conservative press would surely pick up on this story of sex," said Maria. "I know!" replied Constance. "Impregnating out of wedlock is bad enough..." she meant "bad enough" for the three thousand or so people connected by marriage or blood to 95% of major world industry "...but she was so young too! I'm not sure what the age of consent laws are in that country but no matter what they are I'm sure he was at or beneath them when he acted." They were talking about Yevgeny's third cousin Jerome. He accidentally impregnated a young Vietnamese domestic after she reached legal age (18 in his country) but there was some question to whether the affair began before she could legally consent. Even if the underage concern was not around, impregnating a domestic at any age showed irresponsibility. Such things ruined leaders and he feared Jerome might lose all entitlement simply because he had a fetish and his European wife could not fulfill it. Yevgeny assured himself he would never get in that situation. His selection of Henrietta for sexual release was based solely upon her access within the home and her, doctor assured, infertility from an infection she suffered when he was 25. But from what he saw already as his cousin downed a third glass of pink liquid which he smelled to be cranberry juice and vodka and asked... "So where are the cowboys? When we drove from the airport all I saw was city and corn. What about the cattle drives and gun fights?" Oligarchs ...he would have to find another woman for companionship and simply use her for a merger and children. Marriages such as these were not at all uncommon and, if his stepmother's motives were not sinister, a merger was likely on her mind when she made the match. Edith would inherit energy from her father and Yevgeny would transport it of course each providing the goods at cost now that the two families were again connected by marriage. "That's what it is!" Yevgeny exclaimed with a triumphant smile and his index finger pointing to the sky. The three women paused their gossiping. "What's 'what'?" Constance asked. "This is 'Don Carlos' playing," he reminded the women. "Precisely," Constance added. "This was the opera playing in Moscow as the Bolsheviks overtook Russia's republican provisional government in 1917." "Is it?" asked Maria. "Yes. This music has a stigma of instability and half baked ideology behind it. It marks the overthrow of rational future for an uncertain one..." He looked directly into his stepmother's eyes as if this was for her benefit. "...and of course we all know what happened to most of the leaders. They were executed by Stalin. If only cooler heads prevailed and they didn't create an environment with an uncertain future..." he trailed off. BONSAI Until Yevgeny and Edith's meeting at nine o'clock, he entertained himself by reading the landmark 3,000th book on the battle of Gettysburg. Recreational reading was his guilty pleasure and he even turned off his cell phone to avoid all calls whatever. Soon he felt genuinely guilty for the phone and turned it back on thirty minutes later; he had two new messages. He stood on the cobblestone path surrounding the winter proofed fountain and at precisely nine, he saw Edith exit the house and walk to him. The Sun had long set and the chilly air forced them both to wear jackets despite the snow-less landscape. Edith favored the goose down jackets that made someone look like the Michelin Man whereas he wore his Great War vintage greatcoat he inherited. "Shall we begin?" he asked with a slight bounce in place and his hands in his pockets. "Absolutely," she replied. Though used to worse weather, she too had an involuntary spasm and kept her hands in her jacket pockets. They walked around the covered fountain away from the house and followed one of the winding stone paths that snaked from the water. It was too late for the flowers to keep their petals so Yevgeny, an amateur botanist, spoke of the conifers and various fruit trees and bushes which lay bare. The garden took twenty minutes to walk normally end to end but in Summer or Fall it took over two hours because a walk became a crawl as the beauty of the flowers or changing leaves distracted your senses and your feet simply followed your nose or eyes. Even a lover a plants however could not make his Winter garden seem interesting. Even his island of ten feet tall bonsai style pines he personally managed only had him talking for a few minutes and politeness required him to be with her for at least an hour. He checked his watch (9:28), automatically fell into a nearby bench from bored exhaustion, and invited Edith to sit on the bench with him. Edith came but her wide hips made her take far more bench than a woman with her waist should have. The cousins gazed at the bonsai silently for several minutes before Yevgeny cracked the ice. "Why do you suppose my stepmother picked you?" he asked without a hint of ulterior motive or disgust. Though he was trying to determine if she was a spy or saboteur, he did not find her the least bit disgusting. In fact he found her attractive in a conventional way. "Well...I supp-oze because you are in shipping and I will be in energy. Oil. Once we are married, we will deal in an at cost enviro-ment with each other. Unless of course you'd like to manage my inheritance..." she added submissively to test his response. "We'll see. If you're good enough I'm sure you'll keep it for yourself. If not, I can give it a go. But yeah, that's what I figured too." That last part was true but along with a few conspiracy theories where Edith performed the supporting bad guy to his stepmother raced in his head. Edith did not like where this was going. If he was the putz he appeared to be, though a handsome one, she might have to control both companies and exhaust herself. The cousins heard the rhythmic clicking of wing tipped shoes pounding the stone path behind them. A half minute later a well dressed man in his forties, panting quite heavily, stopped before the couple. He hunched and rested his palms atop his knees as he gasped but he soon stood erect. "Mr. Fillmore. I'm sorry for the interruption—a butler told me you were out here. I just got your order—this afternoon. This letter..." he said clasping it in his hand "...caught us at the beginning—of a new manufacturing cycle and we can't get to it in the time you want," he said while periodically taking shallow breaths and trying to maintain dignity. "Look at the postmark on the letter," was Yevgeny's reply. The man looked at it and Edith watched them with excitement in her eyes. Perhaps he would not be useless after all. "It's marked three weeks ago..." Like Yevgeny, the man already knew the answer. "But just because it was postmarked then doesn't mean I saw it and got the wheels going." "We received a confirmation notice signed by your mail room three days after we mailed it and eight days before your new cycle began—well within your acceptable timeframe. That means your mailroom is at fault for not getting it to you sooner and I recommend you shake things up there because it reflects badly on you. Either fuck the cycle and do what I pay you to do or you won't get paid by me anymore. I like your firm's work and we have history, Stan. Your spare parts keep me running but I don't put up with incompetence even if it wasn't yours." Edith glanced at Stan who looked as if he feared his life would end; she gathered Yevgeny was his most important client. "You're really going against the grain of the wood, Yevgeny." "Well thank God I'm not a carpenter or a lumberjack where that sort of thing matters. Now if you'll excuse me, I was talking with my fiancee." Stan's frown lightened a bit at hearing this. "Oh congratulations. The Mrs. and I celebrated our silver last month and you can see the bite marks on my tongue!" he joked. "The flames have died down a bit," he said seriously, "but they're still burning strong. I'm surprised though...I didn't even know you were seeing anyone." Yevgeny looked into Edith's eyes and clasped her hands. "It was announced just last night," he said revealing the fact but concealing the rest. "My blessing to you sir. I'll get started on your order first thing tomorrow. My other clients will be upset if we don't make theirs on time so I suppose I'll have to work my boys overtime." "And I'll remember that for next time, Stan. Goodnight." "Goodnight Mr. Fillmore and Miz...?" "Zamyatin," Edith chimed in as her eyes stayed looking at Yevgeny even though his were once again upon Stan. The older well dressed man left the two at their bench. "Now where were we?" asked Yevgeny as he turned back to Edith. Her gaze was still upon him. Her eyes seemed to twinkle as she looked into his and saw his soul. Not only was he handsome and not only was he rich—he had talent as well. Love is a curious thing. Many find it with others who have common interests. Still some have a spouse who is completely different and even have passionate hate sex spawned from political or ideological distinctions. What Edith loved in a man was brilliance and good looks; typically men have one or the other or sometimes neither. That Yevgeny possessed both traits and that she was engaged to him sent her hormones into a frenzy as she realized her luck that she would not have to learn to love him; she lunged for his mouth to taste his sweet lips and her first kiss indeed was sweet. Yevgeny held his place as Edith kept her mouth to his for over a minute. He saw her deep breathing warming his face in the cold night and when she pulled back her saliva tried to frost his lips. Inching away, she scanned his face for a reply she hoped would not be rejection. Though Yevgeny was not a virgin, he had never kissed anyone but his close female relatives—and only on the cheek. His breathing deepened and a warm radiance seemed to fill his stomach like a fine liquor. He too lunged for her mouth but this time they wrapped their arms around each other and noisily smacked their lips together. Occasionally they paused with their lips merely an inch apart and stared at one another. Occasionally they made quick series of pecks. Both embraced their intimate act and each other as they discovered new found feelings in Edith's case and thoughts in Yevgeny's. Edith believed herself in love while Yevgeny simply absorbed her lustful advance and studied their reactions; that two creatures wanting the same thing in innumerable ways silently agreeing how to proceed was fascinating. During one pause where their foreheads touched and their eyes closed as they listened to the other breathe, he opened his eyes only to find her gazing directly at him. In any other setting, he realized, being caught doing this would be socially awkward but at that moment it aroused him and his chastity belt struggled to restrain his cock which had long filled its cage. Edith's arousal too tested her chastity device as her pussy juice escaped and dripped a wet spot onto her panties. He kissed her cheek and worked his way to her neck. She unzipped her jacket completely and pressed his head down her neck and chest until he reached her C cup cleavage and inhaled her scent as he kissed the tops of her breasts. Fear suddenly shared lust and love's space in her brain and she nervously scanned their surroundings. If they were caught fooling around, the marriage might be called off (unlikely but still a possibility) and she was not taking any chance. She grabbed him by the hair and pulled his eager lips away from her bosom. Grasping his hand, she walked him into the island of thick bonsai trees until they came to the bald, grassy center. They embraced standing up and both grabbed the other by the ass. He easily had more to grasp but he quickly discovered he enjoyed fondling her mammoth and glorious cheeks. Yevgeny slipped his hands underneath her overalls, under the thin fabric of her thong, and tightly clasped her chilled ass; the harder he squeezed the closer their mouths and genitals pressed against their counterparts. Their respective belts found only resistance but the lovers did not notice as they tried to consume the other with wet sloppy kisses. He progressed down her neck to once again pleasure her luscious breasts but she gently held his head and raised it to her eyes. "Excellent..." she said throatily as she squeezed his butt underneath his greatcoat for good measure and released it from her grip. She put one hand at his lower back and gently cupped the other around his balls. He flinched slightly but Edith shushed him and kindly shook her head. Giving him a quick peck, she swiftly came to his earlobe and sucked it wetly as her grasp on his balls tightened. The belt simply disallowed intercourse but its goal was not to prevent any pleasure. He gave a near shouting moan as the sucking and grabbing combination seemed to give him a dry orgasm that lasted the entire minute she sucked and fondled; she would have gladly gone on longer but Yevgeny, overcome with sensation, carefully withdrew his head from her glorious lips to collect himself. Edith briefly thought he found her actions unpleasant but his full body lunge crashing them both upon the hard ground dispelled this. She laughed serenely as he lied to her right side and smiled. In slow and seamless movements he undid one overall's strap and cupped the breast underneath the shirt. He carefully squeezed and familiarized himself with the flesh that would soon feed their children. He hastily undid the other strap and did the same caressing to the newly uncovered breasts whose nipples stood erect against the cold night air. Edith sat up, put her arms behind her back to unfasten her bra, and took off her shirt. Yevgeny likewise removed his coat but did not see reason why he should strip completely because his breasts were not sexualized objects. She laid on her back once again and accepted his tongue to warm her breasts. Yevgeny swirled his tongue around each nipple so his saliva chilled them and they reached their maximum erection, something his cock was struggling to do. He cupped one and enveloped the other's aureola with his warm sucking mouth and tongue as she pressed his head against her. Turning on her side to face him, her breast sagged to the cold ground. She looked him thoughtfully in his eyes. Confident love for her could, at the very least, exist within him, she shared her soul with him in one simple kiss. She raised her left leg atop and behind his body and pulled him to her for a more, soulless but still meaningful, kisses. The size of Edith's hips could not easily allow him to the same maneuver she just did even if he was not locked in her tight warm embrace. Instead his free hand reached behind and underneath her overalls and clenched her thong at the enormous ass's cleft. His eyes opened in shock and he ceased kissing her. He explored further and found the straps of her chastity belt meet at the top of her butt; he immediately sat up but kept his hand underneath her clothes so to feel immediately beneath her ass. There again he felt the chastity belt's straps. He quickly came back to her face as his hand slowly ascended her hairless crack until he arrived to her puckered ass hole. She winced slightly. "Your belt doesn't cover your ass!" "No, it doesn't...." she said meekly. "Aren't they worried about you getting pregnant? A really high number of couples who practice anal sex as birth control get pregnant anyway." "I am covered completely. And besides, no one has ever...done anything there before." "Oh...my..." he murmured as he kneaded her large crack. Though not spectacular, the attention alone to an area no one had ever ventured to (except the hot-wax woman who took care of her before she left) forced her eyes to close in the pleasure the man gave her rather than in pain like the waxing woman. "May I...." he did not get a chance to finish. "Yes!" she interrupted with a loud enough moan to escape the thick trees surrounding them. She would have done anything for him at that moment and she did not care what. He silently instructed her to flip on her back which she quickly did. Next he carefully peeled her overalls away, with her assistance, until they were past her wide hips and at her thighs. Next lying on her stomach, he stretched her "crotch floss" to the far side of her left cheek and separated the massive cheeks where he brought his nose deep for a test of her cleanliness. Though one could not mistake her smooth and clean crack for a rose garden, it was not undesirable and in fact the lingering taboo odor from his cousin aroused him further. Like a novice he started immediately on her puckered hole only occasionally to creep his tongue along her crack. Craning his neck began to hurt and his arms prying her ass open grew tired. Finally he realized a solution. "Lift you ass into the air..." he instructed and she followed. Now her cheeks separated some on their own and her asshole showed itself without shame. He looked to her metal covered pussy and cursed the locked tight straps that kept it there. He wanted to drink from her dripping cunt until there was no more juice left—he wanted to eat her and fill his stomach with her cum as if it were a meal; but he could not. Instead he started at her perineum and flicked it gently with his tongue as if it were a pussy. At last Edith moaned to this new sensation and it grew louder as he ascended her ass and reached her hole. For five minutes her ass had his undivided attention and Edith thought it wonderful her virgin husband knew how to please. In addition to her fatty eyelids, she had disliked her hips and the huge ass that came with them. They took up room in chairs, drew stares, and made her officially overweight despite her waistline. Yet here was a man who seemed to worship her ass like a piece of fruit. His tongue ventured into her hole and she gave a slight shiver. The tongue swirled inside but just as his index finger crept up her canyon like crack, they both heard heels clacking against the stone path and the lovers became deathly still after. The heels stopped near the bench Edith left her jacket on and did not move farther. Yevgeny hastily removed his cell phone from his pocket and turned it off just in case the heels gave up looking and just called. He was not sure yet who the woman looking for him was and for that he was grateful. The compromised couple rested merely five feet from the thick brush and could therefore better see through it than someone standing ten yards away at the bench. "Master Yevgeny! Mistress Zamyatin! It is getting late and we have to go to services tomorrow at the Russian orthodox church! The closest one is an hour's drive so we have to get up earlier!" she shouted. "But of course you're probably not here and I've just wasted valuable oxygen..." she trailed off. She began an argument with herself about laundry, seemingly to occupy her mind as she looked for him. That clinched it. The heels belonged to Donna, his favorite servant. She was about his age and had a sarcastic wit one had to know to appreciate. While he would rather not get caught by anyone, if it had to happen he would prefer she do because there was a fifty-fifty chance she would not say anything to Maria. The heels continued on their way and soon the self-argument disappeared but he kept his face inches from Edith's ass entirely forgetting it was there. When she made a subtle cough, he remembered what they had just been doing and he quickly rose. "We should probably get going now. Get dressed," he said hastily without care. Edith, with her ass prominently displayed to the trees, turned her head away from him and frowned as she stood, put her underwear back in place, brought her overalls to her hips, put on her shirt, and fastened her shoulder straps. Yevgeny likewise grabbed his greatcoat and they cautiously exited the trees; they did not utter a word and Edith was too dejected to look him in the eye for fear of crying. She forgot her jacket on the bench. The servants removing the cousins' respective chastity belts noticed the remains of their arousal. That is to say they saw the dried remnants of pre-cum surrounding Yevgeny's cockhead and still moist drippings from Edith's pussy on the interior of her belt. Neither said anything and the cousins did not attempt to bring the night to their own conclusion. Yevgeny lied naked in his bed and talked softly to himself as he recounted what happened. The near stranger and possible spy gave him his first kiss—he was overwhelmed. He was still young after all and his pants came off at night just like everybody else's so how could he blame himself for falling for her guise? Thank God Donna's footsteps brought him back to reality and he did not go any further. Suddenly remembering where his finger nearly entered her body forty minutes ago, he brought it to his nose and sniffed it. It was clean but his awareness manufactured a foul taste in his mouth that nearly made him vomit in his bed. He rushed to his bathroom, emptied his medicine cabinet of every oral hygiene product, and dropped them into the sink. Edith's guest room was a simple bedroom and small for the size of the house she inhabited but three times bigger than her bedroom in her old St. Petersburg apartment. Even though that room was stripped of her possessions so they could be packed and shipped, it probably had still more decoration than the white walls of this guest room of her future home. She lowered the canopy of her bed and laid flat as a board in her nightgown atop the sheets. Silently she cried herself red as she reviewed the most intimate moment of her life. She seemed physically united and equal with Yevgeny; she did things she never dreamed of doing before she was engaged; she told herself this was not simply convenient love she was manufacturing to live a happier life—she was not stupid enough to trick herself. No—she was in love and she knew it. But why did he stop? Their near capture, she determined, could not have stopped her adventurous fiancee. He was nearly fucking her ass with his finger before he withdrew entirely and told her to get dressed. Was she not very good? After all, the vacuous show she put on for his mother should not affect his desire to enjoy her. Even when she thought Yevgeny a simpleton she still wanted to fuck him! She must have done something wrong then. Oligarchs For a moment Edith stopped crying as her thoughts distracted her tears. She remembered his knowing movements and gentle caresses that suggested he was familiar with what he was doing and instantly she figured out his reluctance. "He has had sex before!" she exclaimed in Russian in her mind. "But with whom?" She parted her canopy and walked in the darkness to her bedroom door. Cracking it open ever so slightly, she saw a tall black man with sunglasses before her. "Damn..." she said quietly "...he must have a guard too." Edith turned the knob of the opened door so the catch would go inside as if she were going to open it but instead she gently and silently closed it. With great care, she turned the knob the other way and she was rewarded with its noiseless latch. Sluggishly she crawled back to her bed and faced the ceiling once again. "What was I even gonna do once I got out there? It's not like I can just go up to him and ask who he was fucking. Maybe I'll ask around—but who to ask? Maybe whoever takes off his chastity belt at night." She searched for a way to find this sensitive fact without arousing suspicion. The idea struck her like a bolt of lighting; she smiled to herself, turned over on her side, and contentedly fell asleep. CHURCH Without business obligations to Edith's father who remained diligently at his office until he absolutely had to leave for Hawai'i, she got a full eight hours rest before she was awakened. "Mistress..." said a soft voice. "Mistress...it's time for services..." it continued. Edith slowly opened her eyes and looked to the blue one's of the same attractive young blonde who removed her belt the night before. She wore, like other female servants in the Fillmore estate, a French maid's uniform. As tired as Edith was, she still recognized the voice as the woman who interrupted her and Yevgeny last night. She sat up and rubbed her eyes in a great show of weariness. "Breakfast wasn't prepared because Mistress Fillmore did not know if your host-wafer had to be eaten on an empty stomach like with the Roman Catholics...I hope that's all right." "It's fine..." Edith said not bothering to confirm or deny her church's practices. "Um...hey...what's your name?" "Oh...I'm sorry..." the woman giggled. "I plumb forgot. I'm Donna. Like you I'm kinda new to this house too," she smiled pleasantly and Edith returned one of her own. "Say...I um...feel kind of awkward saying this...but..." "Uh oh," Donna thought. She was going to ask her to go down on her. She knew these upper-crust types wore chastity belts and got off whenever they could but she did not think when she took this job she would have to do it to a woman. Sure, she had found women attractive before but she was a virgin and had no desire for sex; she much preferred masturbating and then shaking as many possible hands the entire day, sniffing used underwear, or leaving a single pubic hair on public toilets. She anxiously closed her eyes and scrunched her nose. "...but...when you were looking for me and Yevgeny last night, we heard you." Donna cautiously opened one eye and then the other. "We were---intimate. I figured that, since you sounded young and it turns out you are, you would understand what we were feeling then. And I can't tell you why yet, but I need to know who takes care of his chastity belt morning and night." Donna relaxed completely. "That's Oswald. He does all sorts of odd jobs around the house..." and with that she described the older man and his routine work hours. Edith smiled to herself and went by herself to the bathroom where she peed and showered. A gentle knock at the door alerted her that her chastity belt had arrived. She opened the door to find Donna holding it by the straps. "I had to give it a thorough cleaning with a toothbrush before it was decent," she said with an understanding smile. The blonde knelt before the naked mistress and locked the buckles around her ample thighs and average waist. She turned her head away from her pussy and pretended not breathe in as she awkwardly wrapped her arms around Edith's massive hips and fastened the locks behind them. She exited through Edith's bedroom door and left her to dress on her own. A toothbrush was right. The belt reeked of pussy when she removed it the night before; but the caked on juice easily flaked off with the strong touch of her electric toothbrush. Donna's mouth watered and she trotted to her quarters so she could brush her teeth for the third time that morning. Yevgeny and Edith shared the back-seat of a modest limo and sat next to each other during the Russian Orthodox service. Confident she would soon have his attentions again and his love, she remained calm and collected in moments that would otherwise be awkward. "So what did you think of the service, Yevgeny?" Edith asked him as they drove to his office to drop him off. Yevgeny, accustomed to Methodism and its plain presentation could only say one thing about a routine service with lit censers, great robes for the priest, icons covering the walls, specifically brilliant colored icons of Mary, both virgin and whore, Joseph of Arimathea, Jesus and a car sized model of Hagia Sophia in Istanbul, could only think of two words for this excess of religious garishness. "Ceremonial beauty..." he trailed off. They drove forty to the city center, Yevgeny's skyscraper, and double parked so he, dressed to kill, could get out to work. Edith craned her neck out the limo's window and looked at the second tallest structure in the city. She noticed however that instead of a conical or pyramidal cap with a high antenna upon its roof, there was nothing. Despite her low angle, she knew she could see one if it existed. She wondered what could be up there but the limo, being in the middle of the road when it dropped off Yevgeny, was rushed forward by Sunday morning traffic. Yevgeny's corner office had no walls. It was enclosed by a thick, noise proof glass however. He entered it and bolted the door shut. Instantly both walls facing the inside of the office turned an opaque black but the glass facing the outside stayed clear. He plopped himself into his comfortable leather chair, removed his lap top from his brief case, and placed it on his desk. As it warmed up and searched for the wireless internet, Yevgeny looked at the pictures on his desk. One of his mother, one of his father, and one of his mother and father at their wedding. He scanned their faces; his father, in his late forties, found a pretty teenaged wife. Neither looked too happy but Yevgeny assumed they both were doing what they were supposed to. In a week he would have to do the same thing and his children would look at his and Edith's photo the same way. "I vow not to let that happen...at least our kids will have a spouse they love," he said to himself. He swirled his chair to face the window and with the Sun on his building's other side, he could faintly make out the countryside where he lived. CONSPIRACY Edith was floored by the beauty of Yevgeny's property. Though it was Winter and all the trees prepared for snow, the green grass and hedges along the winding mile drive on gravel roads was a marvel. The house, built nearly two hundred years previous, was exceptionally large for one of its era because it had been supplemented over the centuries and always in the same style. The driver pulled to the front steps and exited to run round the side and open the door for her but he came to find her already walking up the steps. She was not going to let useless ceremony get in her way today; she was going to find Oswald. Edith hoped she would see a servant on her way to...where she was not sure. She looked into every room as she aimlessly walked for someone to tell her where Oswald was. Eventually she came to the bar where they listened to "Don Carlos" the previous day. Though it was too early for anyone to be drinking, she hoped someone was at least cleaning the place. Apparently it was not too early to drink as she saw her mother Constance leaning against the bar. Wearing a long flowing skirt that accentuated her hips, which were just as wide as her shoulders, and a Kashmir blouse, she grasped with one hand the tie of the vested servant who tended them the previous night and with the other a filterless cigarette. Constance smiled quite happily as she talked to the man, almost a boy, behind the bar. Seeing her mother, 51 years old and looking every bit like it, flirt with a man two-fifths her age was very displeasing. The oldest and "most beautiful" daughter in her family, Constance wore the most flattering make up and tanned often. The chemicals, Sun abuse, plus her smoking which Edith vocally disapproved of, made her skin sallow. "Tell me, Drew, right? Tell me Drew, what is a strapping young man like yourself doing as a butler?" She took a quick drag. "I thought an exciting job was more of what you kids these days went for." Edith recognized her mother was attempting to seduce him with an older woman fantasy cloaked in small talk. She did this sort of thing regularly and so Edith did not give another thought to stealing away her potential guide. "Hey Drew..." she said as she approached the two. Both looked at her but one person had a look of salvation in the eyes. "Can you show me where Oswald is? I need to talk to him." The young man's face lighted up. "Oh I can show you. It's really no problem at all. This place is so big sometimes you can get lost...." he continued to ramble nervously as he slid his tie from Constance's grasp. For his helpful attitude, she gave her daughter and the young man a vengeful stare. The two left her to herself and she opted to stay because after all, he had to come back and finish the work she interrupted. "You're welcome, by the way..." Edith said as they walked down the hall. "By, whatever do you mean?" Drew replied in mock ignorance. "It's okay. I need to find Oswald and you needed to get away. I wouldn't worry though—she doesn't cheat on my father so you're in the clear." Drew sighed in relief. The hallways of the Fillmore household, with the exception of the reception room and one's leading to the spacious ballroom she had danced in a dozen times before, were quite narrow and had almost treacherously low ceilings. Built when the average person was far shorter and maintained over the centuries with stubbornly consistent additions, the grandiose effect of high ceilings was lost. Though no human could bump his head upon one of the molded flowers, for a humanity of this stature, it was quite small. What it lacked in ceilings however it made up with its all marble staircases in the the corners of the roughly square main house. When one grasped the gold banister and descended white-gray marble steps with slight dips from millions of little feet coming upon them and found priceless paintings and delicate antiques at the bottom or top of stairs, just as was the case along the hallways, one could not help but feel overwhelmed by the magnificence. Ten minutes passed and they came to the relatively shabby basement laundry; the marble stairs only had a bronze banister, one oil painting, and a modern hardwood floor. Drew gestured for her to enter and he, at quarter the normal pace, walked back up the stairs toward his bar. There were three domestics in the noisy laundry room filled with a dozen washer/driers and its own dry cleaning stations. She did not have to remember the description of Oswald that Donna gave her because he still in church clothes at his ironing board was the only man there. Edith came within his eye sight and gently smiled at the older man who possessed a Patrick Stewart level of baldness but without the handsomeness. He did not look at her. "What do you want?" he said with an irritated lisp. Edith was shocked at his rudeness but pretended not to be offended by it. She cleared her throat proclaimatorily. "I said 'What?'!" he exclaimed as he looked up at her. Her newness to the household and the finery of her Sunday clothes being on par with those of a normal person's church clothes as well hid her status to the irritated old queer. He placed the clothes iron upright, rested his hands atop the ironing board, and gave an annoyed expectant look. Edith gave an irritated sigh, rolled her eyes, and crossed her arms. "My name is Edith Zamyatin," she proclaimed. "So?" he pronounced it 'tho.' "Soon to be Edith Fillmore..." she said with a triumphant smile. Oswald's face went completely white and his heart, however briefly, stopped and entered his stomach. A cold sweat instantaneously dripped form his forehead and into his eyes where it burned them. Now they both knew it was Edith's turn to listen to an explanation. "Um...Miz Zom-yay-shun..." "Zamyatin," she corrected him. "Zamyatin...Miz Zamyatin...I am so sorry. If I had any idea who you were I wouldn't have said it and it's just so much like me to say the first thing that comes to mind without thinking about what others might feel and my father always told me I had this problem and..." he droned on while waving his hands in hyper-effeminate mannerisms Edith had never seen even among her gay friends. Once she got past annoyance, it was all very funny and she laughed privately. "No stop...please...." she struggled not to laugh out loud. "Stop apologizing and you can make it up to me." Oswald kept talking and so his mind was occupied with his own words. However, hers did penetrate and he shut up albeit with a ten second delay. "I need to know who has been having sex with Yevgeny," she blurted. She purposely did not tell him how she concluded he had premarital sex nor that she was uncertain about it. If the information was not crucial to his end of the arrangement, why should he know? Oswald paused and glanced around for eager ears in the noisy laundry room. "Will you punish this person?" he ventured a question. 'What the hell is he getting at?' Edith asked herself. 'All right, be ambiguous.' "I'll have to prove it before I can do anything." He found this answer satisfactory and he let out a relieved sigh. "Henri Reynolds," he said in a whisper. "Henry Reynolds? A man?" she asked in shock. "No...Henrietta Reynolds. She was Master Yevgeny's wet nurse. I think she always had a thing for him and in the last year or two, there's been some suspicion they're fooling around at night after I remove Master's chastity belt." "Suspicion? Rumor? Any proof?" "I saw them two nights ago. I was privileged to give master head for release but he stopped using me so I stayed near his room one night to find out why. Thirty minutes after I left, I saw Henri leave in quite the mood. I know for a fact she didn't enter after I left master to sleep so she must have been in there already or sneaked in another way. Doing what is a guess—but an educated one." "Thank you, Oswald. There will be no ill will for your words to me." "Oh thank you mistress," he said with eyes glowing. "And if there's anything else, please tell me." "Yes there is one more thing. Where can I find Henri?" "Oh of course...she's Maria's principle personal servant. She has a room adjacent to hers on the fourth floor, East Wing, fifth edition." With that she thanked the kind man and with the help of a guide, again for the sake of freeing Drew and solving her own problem, found her future stepmother's carved double doors to her bedroom. Not seeing Henri's bedroom, she checked the double doors and found them locked. Frustrated, she looked to the left, beyond a Renaissance bust, to a plain door. She opened it and found not a broom closet like she first thought but a small bedroom modestly decorated prints, photos, but with another door leading into Maria's bedroom. She crept inside and heard soft moans coming from the next room. The door was not cracked open yet it was not secured in place either. A stiff breeze would open or close it farther and Edith's gentle hands chose the former. Edith used her right eye and saw a lavishly decorated bedroom for a fraction of a second before she saw a nurse's uniform scattered on the floor. Presumably the woman who wore it was the naked one at the foot of a bed with her head bulging underneath the long skirt of an otherwise naked woman whose legs dangled off the end and at the sides of the other person. The nurse seemed to be quite good, presumably in cunnilingus, because the other woman's moaning was becoming louder by the minute and her arms did not wish to stop moving. Edith faintly heard quiet smacking noises coming from the skirt eight yards before her and imagined they were much louder underneath the sweaty and musky skirt. The skirt hid all the action but Edith closed her eyes and imagined the tongue caressing and stimulating every nerve faster and wetter than her fingers and a vibrator ever could. Gently caressing each lip of her delicate cunny and probing her deep hole with a long tongue or maybe fucking her with two fingers as forceful licks attacked her clitoris and sent her into an orgasm that was not made by herself. She heard some women, especially those of conservative backgrounds, viewed their pussies as something disgusting and would never allow a man to put his face there. With a chastity belt and an obsession with keeping virginity until marriage, Edith's society would be the natural second place for such perceptions to inhabit but that was simply not the case. She was going to make Yevgeny want to do this and the only way was to keep that Henri woman away. Once she was married, she could use her influence and send her away someplace so she and Yevgeny could enjoy their married life. Edith's fantasy was cut short as the woman on the bed grasped her hands around her skirt's bulge and forced it against her crotch. Stronger licking noises and grunts came from between her thighs and shuddering spasms shook the bed. The spasms became regular with side to side writhes and raising hips which the bulge struggled to keep up with. "Ahhhhh!" screamed the bottom as she arched her back and forced her tits into the air. They turned slightly to the side and their erect nipples pointed victoriously into the air. "Oooooh" she moaned with a shudder as she smacked her lips like she ate a satisfying meal. Her hips, perhaps struggling equally hard to move up/down, side to side, settled in a rhythmic circle and as testament to the distraction of pleasure, she did not notice she was using her thighs which barely were on the bed instead of her feet to raise her moving hips off the bed. The bottom's breathing became more erratic and was punctuated by deep pleasurable sighs and shrieking yelps like an animal in pain. Bringing her hands to her breasts, she cupped, massaged, and roughly squeezed them as one last noise erupted from her overworked diaphragm and vocal cords. It was so loud Edith's head instinctively pulled back as if an animal was coming for her in some primordial jungle. The woman under the skirt slowly raised her naked body up and upon far end of the bed. The other sat up and no surprise to Edith given where this scene was happening, it was Maria who looked flushed red with satisfying orgasm. Henri seductively pulled a foreign object from her pussy and handed it to Maria who sucked it vigorously before tossing it on the ground like a candy wrapper. Edith wondered how Yevgeny could have experience from this lesbian and considered calling Oswald on his lies. "Oooh...." moaned Maria still breathing heavily. "His cum tastes so good today..." Edith's ears perked up. "And it's so fresh too. When did you get it?" she asked as she slid off her skirt to reveal a perfectly shaven pussy reamed red and with a thick drop of her cum hanging delicately at the bottom. "Right before services two hours ago, mistress," replied a husky voice. Maria brought her mouth to Henri's and they shared a passionate kiss and swapped Yevgeny's cum diluted with greater volumes of their spit with each exchange. Maria straddled Henri and rubbed her snatch against hers as she brought her face a foot above Henri's and dribbled a long trailed of the thick spit into the other's mouth. Henri accepted and swallowed eagerly with pleasant moans punctuating the end of each swallow.